Five Is A Pretty Colour (Six Is Better)
by RainIsMyFavouriteColour
Summary: Five Things You Know (And One Thing You Don't). Mostly fluff, some angst.
1. Inferno

" _First. He touches you and you light on fire. Your wrist blazes where his fingers meet your skin. The burns don't show, but it's hard to breathe with ash in your lungs. It's so hard to breathe. You're suffocating daily._ "

* * *

"Got it, partner?"

Miyuki's glove bumps against Eijun's chest, his anticipation and confidence shining through the honest grin hidden by his helmet.

The fear that started closing in on him, squeezing his chest until it was hard to breathe, fades at the familiar touch. He feels a bit warmer, not as cold as naked fear would have him believe.

Eijun nods, still a little stiff, but Miyuki's excitement gets to him as well. It infects him, inciting a bubbling, burning desire deep inside him. It grounds him to where he stands – the mound.

And no one is going to take it from him, not this inning, not this game.

"Got it."

Seven innings later, the ball securely lands in the mitt and their victory is declared.

Their eyes meet across the distance separating them. Eijun's heated calm melts into light exhilaration. His wide grin is mirrored by Miyuki opposite him, an unusual sight which takes Eijun's breath away again.

It's moments like these when he can see that Miyuki really is like the sun, shyly emerging from behind clouds and even more beautiful because of its rarity. Its rays blaze even more strongly and heat Eijun to the core, burning him from the inside out.

He is thankful for every moment he gets to pitch, not simply because it is what he was born to do, but because it's getting harder and harder to remember how to breathe when the mound isn't his.

It's hard to breathe and hurts. It burns, he goes up in flames every time Miyuki slings an arm around him – but the world stills, just like his heartbeat, when they face each other as a battery.

Even though Miyuki's touch is painful and closes around his throat like a vice, even though he suffocates him, Eijun feels worse when his intensity isn't directed at him.

The pain he feels with Miyuki is burning hot – the pain he feels when he isn't, is cold, searing and gives him frostbite.

If he has to make a choice between the two, he'll always choose the first. Heat is preferable to cold, even if he is swallowed up by fire.


	2. Helios

_"Second. It hurts to watch him. He shines. He's brighter than the sun. He's too beautiful for your eyes. It's hard to look at him. It's even harder to look away from him. You're going blind."_

* * *

Kazuya stands from his crouch, grinning widely once they've been declared the winner. His grin is returned, forming around a familiar victory chant and dimming everything around him. Sawamura is a beacon, drawing the team to him like moths to a flame. Their battery breaks as soon as their eye contact does.

Whenever Kazuya faces him, a beam of energy connects the mound and home plate. Sawamura pitches with an intensity he hasn't known before, one that should feel crushing but isn't. It locks him into place, like Sawamura is his key - his to choose to set free or to keep, to choose when Kazuya's attention should be on him and when not.

Even if Sawamura didn't have this power over him, Kazuya wouldn't be able to look away, on or off the field. He is too bright for that, too much like a light in the dark to not draw attention.

As concentrated as he is on the mound, as free and unbound he is off of it. Sawamura is like the summer sun, hot and unyielding. His light shines on everything, the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly.

It shames Kazuya. Someone like him should be burned by it but somehow he doesn't burst into flames.

There's a warning not to look directly at the sun.

If he could, Kazuya would break the connection forcing him to watch it. He can feel it's brightness burning his eyes, hurting, but it feels like deserved pain.

There's a warning that to keep looking means to go blind.

Kazuya thinks he's already halfway there. It's a fitting punishment.

But he tries to look away because to go blind also means he can't see the sun anymore, and he's too selfish to just take it without resistance.

He's been in the dark alone for too long to ever get used to it being his only companion again.

But even the dark is illuminated by Sawamura and Kazuya is almost relieved for it.

Turning his gaze back to him hurts. That's what he gets for not doing what he should. It hurts more than to keep looking.

Still, his attention is fixed on him despite the pain, because as beautiful as the sun is to watch - it's distant, too far away to ever touch.

That's a punishment he gratefully accepts.

If watching is all he can do, it's worth going blind for.


	3. Siren

" _ **Third**_ _. Your ears are tuned to his voice. You could pick him out in a sea of thousands. His voice makes pretty singers who sing pretty songs sound dull. His voice makes everything else sound ugly."_

* * *

"Sawamura."

Miyuki's voice is quiet, too quiet to be heard from across the field above all the noise, especially in the middle of practice.

Eijun hears him anyway. He turns, sees the captain gesture for him to come over. He opens his mouth to retort, angrily, he isn't done with pitching, jerk, but then Miyuki adds, "Come here."

There's a smirk in his tone, not visible from where Eijun stands, but just as irritating as if he could see it.

It doesn't stop his body from moving, taking one quick step at a time, until he's right in front of Miyuki.

Eijun's eyes are fixed to him when he starts talking, his lips forming words, his voice rising and falling with each intonation. It forms a melody, enticing and beautiful to listen to, even if it comes at the price of smirks and shit-eating grins far too often.

It reels Eijun in every time, involuntarily, drawing his attention whenever it sounds – even if it's his irritation which is roused more often than not. He can't help it, can't help but respond. It's automatic and instinctive, embarrassingly so.

He knows every nuance of that voice by now, even if he doesn't like to admit it. It's unique and puts him under a spell, ever changing and something he never gets tired of hearing.

Miyuki's voice, despite all the sarcasm and snark it puts into words, is beautiful.

And maybe that's why Eijun has made it a priority to hound him for catching his pitches as often as he can. Not consciously, of course, never – who would want to put up with Miyuki aside from professional reasons?

Except, of course, he knows this is nothing game related. It may have started that way, but now – Eijun calls for Miyuki for more than one reason.

He always responds to him, even if it's more often a rejection than resigned approval.

It doesn't matter to him. He can always try again, and always will, tomorrow. Eijun won't get tired of hearing Miyuki's voice anyway.

His one-track mind has also gotten Eijun into trouble, though. As much attention as he pays Miyuki's voice, as fast as he responds to it, the slower he is and the harder he finds it to listen to anything else.

It's earned him more detentions and extra homework than he would have ever thought he'd get. It's gotten him countless laps around the field – all of which he never seems to finish because he keeps getting distracted.

Eijun can't help it. Miyuki's voice is a melody he never thought he'd hear, never thought he'd find as enchanting as he does. It's a strange but pleasant change from everything else – everything else which has become a background hum to its lead.

Yes, it has gotten Eijun into trouble – but he doesn't mind, not if he can keep hearing his new favourite song.


	4. Ocean

" _ **Fourth**. The colour of his eyes is blue enough to drown in. he is turning you into a clichéd love-wrecked being. You're drowning, always sinking. Down, down, down._ "

* * *

Before Sawamura, Kazuya was able to keep his head above water, or at least make it look like he did. It's easier than it seems, hiding himself away behind a laughing mask and a sometimes cocky attitude.

No one needed to know that he was barely able to keep himself from sinking. And still, no one needs to know that.

But as Sawamura's eyes meet his across the field, igniting an indignant spark to brighten them up even more, Kazuya has to remind himself to keep breathing.

It's hard to do, when it feels like there is no air for his lungs to take in. He's surrounded by burning amber, sucking him in with no way to escape as Sawamura comes closer until he's finally in front of him.

The pitcher's arms cross, his eyebrows drawn downward as he scowls up at Kazuya. He smiles, involuntarily, in amusement. This is how it always goes.

He talks, explaining his new regimen to him, but the words tumble out on autopilot. He already knows what he has to say, it takes no effort to do so, and so, his attention is reeled in by Sawamura's expressive eyes once again. Eyes which never seem to leave Kazuya's face, for all the noise the pitcher makes to express his annoyance with him.

And again, all Kazuya can see and feel is shades of gold and soft browns, surrounded by dark lashes which lazily blink every now and then. He can't flee and he doesn't know if he would, given the chance.

He's drowning and he almost doesn't care.

Except that no one needs to know that he is, that gold-amber-brown keeps him trapped like honey, warm, and slowing down his movements until he gives up struggling.

He wasn't trying that hard to begin with.


	5. Dreams

_"Fifth. You know him. You love him. Through a thousand lifetimes, across millions of stars, you'd find him, you'd never leave him. You love him, till death do you part."_

* * *

It happens late at night, one of numerous ones that Eijun goes into undisturbed sleep but then wakes upon finding dreams and wishes he never knew he had until now. Dreams and wishes of golden words, of beating hearts, of calm breath, of two people intertwined so deeply that they are two halves of a whole, melded together. Of warm touch and even warmer words, of safety and reassurance, of a language which doesn't need words to be heard or even understood.

It's another restless night, one which pretended to be safe only to send him more dreams and strengthen wishes Eijun knows won't come true. He can't decide if he loves or hates them, just like he can't make up his mind if he hates or loves what they tell him.

It's when he catches sight of a vending machine, the one he has made a habit to visit during his 2 am, sometimes 3 am, stroll when he can't get back to sleep, that he decides to hate that he loves the object of his dreams.

Miyuki shows no sign of having noticed Eijun frozen in his approach, letting his fingers glide across the buttons on the side of the display.

"Oi, Sawamura, what do you think? Black coffee or chocolate milk?" he suddenly calls out, startling Eijun out of his trance. Then Miyuki looks over his shoulder; the weak light illuminating the small alley way between the dorms doesn't free his face from the shadows enough to see what his expression is. Even so, Eijun would bet his tire it's a smirk. His heart jumps and he swallows, trying to force the traitorous organ and resulting thoughts into submission, as he finally begins to walk again only to come to a standstill beside Miyuki.

"I don't know how you can drink that stuff. It's disgusting." Eijun offers instead of an actual answer. Miyuki makes a peculiar sound, something between an aborted laugh and a snort.

"How come you're out so late?" he asks, finally making a choice, his question followed by the tumbling of drinks down the vending machine. He surprises Eijun when he straightens up with a drink in each hand, offering him one. "Don't worry, that's the chocolate milk."

Eijun doesn't take it straight away, too intrigued by Miyuki's tone. The light is still too weak to see, though he suspects it wouldn't have helped make Miyuki more transparent anyway. But Miyuki sounds…tired. Almost like this isn't the first time this has happened, as if he hasn't been sleeping. Eijun suddenly has to wonder if he has dreams that keep him awake too.

"I could ask you the same thing." Eijun takes the can but doesn't open it, watching Miyuki's darkened profile and listening to the quiet crack of a tin seal being broken.

There's enough light to make the puffs of air in front of Eijun visible, enough to make the dust swirling in the chilly night air look like floating gold. It reminds him a little of his dreams, a little bit blurry and the cold less noticeable, the shadows moving inky-black and taking away from reality. He almost wishes it was a dream because that would mean he could do anything he wants, say whatever he wants, get the answers he wants.

There's not enough light to recognise Miyuki; the shadows make sure of that, but even so Eijun knows he would have. Even in his dreams he can always recognise him and the only reason he knows this is reality is because the cold bites into his skin just a bit too viciously, because as blurry as Miyuki's profile is and as much gold surrounds him in the dark, it's all still clearer than a dream could ever be, much sharper.

Eijun isn't sure if Miyuki has said anything more, too absorbed in the smell of cold air and the faint scent of coffee, too distracted by blurry-clear shadows and dream-like gold weaving its spell. But there is silence, a silence that follows after a spoken question left unanswered and he realises Miyuki must have said something. If he listens closely, he can feel and hear the plucked chords of Miyuki's melody still reverberating in the air.

"Oi, Sawamura, if you're so tired you're zoning out you should just go to sleep –" Miyuki is saying, the notes being strum and pulling on the strings connected to Eijun's heart. Heartstrings, he thinks, a bit distantly, as he listens, but the sound Miyuki coaxes from his own chords slowly drowns out his voice until the sound fills Eijun completely. His whole body feels like it is moving and vibrating along, humming, but silently, and he opens his mouth to let the notes sing.

"I like you."


	6. Eros

_"_ _(_ _ **Sixth**_ _. He loves you, too. )"_

* * *

It's dark and quiet, as it usually is around this time of night. Kazuya isn't quite sure if he is fond of the solitude he finds then or if he misses the daytime and what it brings. There was a time when he didn't think about that at all but it's different now.

The sun shines bright in Kazuya's mind, warming him from the inside out. When did the moon and stars keeping him far off company at night become replaced by the sun, he wonders, his fingers gliding across the display of the vending machine. They halt for a moment as he feels something out of the ordinary, something intangible yet intense, something as invisible as much as it is familiar, even if it is a lot less attention-seeking than what Kazuya is used to. He almost smiles as he calls out to the dark which feels more comforting and less lonely than it has in a while.

"Oi, Sawamura, what do you think? Black coffee or chocolate milk?" Kazuya turns his head, less surprised than he should be to find Sawamura standing behind him, half obscured in the plentiful shadows. Even so, the weak lamplight spilling through the cracks between concrete buildings is bright enough to illuminate Sawamura's face.

Late nights seem to have a way of pulling what is hidden to the surface; Kazuya pretends not to notice the battle of emotions flickering across Sawamura's usually so open expression. The small jump he does, however, coaxes an amused smirk out of him. It wavers a little when Sawamura begins to come closer; if he resembled a skittish animal before, every trace of that insecurity seems to disappear with every step he takes until he finally stands right beside Kazuya.

He turns his attention back to the display, fingers poised. Sawamura is too close, too warm, too present, to ignore the answering heat he can feel creeping up his neck.

"I don't know how you can drink that stuff. It's disgusting."

Kazuya laughs, maybe sounding a little strained, as he finally presses a number combination and slides clinking change into the coin slot. It's an expected answer.

"How come you're out so late?" he asks, thankful that his question is followed by the tumbling of drinks down the vending machine and not a silence he isn't sure he can take. He's suddenly thankful for the lack of proper lighting. Bending down, he picks up the two cans and offers one to Sawamura. Sawamura doesn't react right away, face surprisingly closed off. It makes Kazuya nervous.

"Don't worry, that's the chocolate milk." he adds to attempt and hide this unreasonable nervousness. A few more moments pass; Sawamura's eyes are as bright as ever, if not as open, but still magnetic and making it impossible for Kazuya to look away. It's almost completely silent, except for the sound of soft breathing, a strange occurrence in itself where Sawamura is concerned. Even Kazuya's heart stills despite how close they are, but it's warm and, as cliché as it sounds, he can't deny that this, here right now, feels safe.

Because of Sawamura.

"I could ask you the same thing." he finally replies, breaking the silence but evading the question. Kazuya blinks, having forgotten what exactly that was. He says nothing in return, opting to open his can of coffee even as he remembers.

What else is there to say, what else except what he doesn't want this late night to reveal?

"You can't sleep because of nightmares?" Kazuya asks, unwilling to give an honest answer. Sleepless nights are something he has become an expert in, after all. He isn't looking at Sawamura but even so he can still feel that impossible to ignore stare directed at him. His question provokes no reaction and Kazuya can feel himself growing a little annoyed even as his mouth decides to let more words tumble out. "Are you worried about our next match? That's not like you. You're the one who never gives up, aren't you? Don't you want to be the ace?"

Kazuya finally looks up at that, expecting an inappropriately loud response given the time but instead finds Sawamura's somewhat glazed over gaze still directed at him.

Despite the toned down intensity, Kazuya has to swallow heavily. His throat feels tight and his heart is picking up in speed until it's not so quiet anymore. Heat pools in his stomach.

"Oi, Sawamura, if you're so tired you're zoning out you should just go to sleep –" Kazuya manages to say, even slipping in a tone of reprimand. For just a moment, he feels relief when it's evident by Sawamura's clear eyes that he's listening to him but then he speaks as if he hasn't heard a word Kazuya has said.

"I like you."

This time, Kazuya's heart stops in the same instant his lungs feel like all the air has been sucked out of them. His mouth is still open, words dying on his tongue and drying up just like his thoughts and nervousness. He's completely blank, the sudden silence mirroring his inner state.

"What?"

Just that single, croaked word is enough to shake Sawamura out of that strange trance-like state he seems to be caught in and he steps back. Kazuya immediately misses the heat, his body still somehow seeming to be able to realise this even as his mind is still catching up. Sawamura finally breaks eye contact, shaking his head a little.

"I – sorry – that shouldn't have –" he stutters, stumbling backward even more, his unopened can falling from his loose grip. Kazuya can't move even though he's beginning to get the sense that he should follow, a strange kind of urgency taking hold of him to keep Sawamura there. His chest flutters and feels light, but also hovering anxiously.

This silence isn't as pleasant or as natural as it used to be; it feels like pulled taut string, tense and as if waiting to be pulled or snapped, waiting to sing out a clear tune or an ugly sound of ripping apart something precious and fragile. It feels like walking on a tightrope.

And Kazuya still doesn't know what to do or say, only an increasing sense of alarm and impending loss if he doesn't act now.

"Sawamura." he finally makes his voice work, grating because his brain picked tonight of all nights to go on a holiday. He isn't particularly loud, he doesn't need to be when it's just them and off the field, but he finds this isn't what he needs to be like, not quiet or controlled but as honest as Sawamura was and always, always is. It's still enough to stop Sawamura in his tracks, enough to get him to look up and enough for Kazuya to see what it is that feels so fragile between them. He swallows yet again, but his throat is still too dry and his tongue too clumsy. "I-"

Another silence follows, one which grows heavier with each passing moment until Sawamura deflates, visible even in the dark, and turns his back on Kazuya. Just like that, his sun disappears and it may as well be dark without a moon or stars to lend their cold, sparse light.

How does one become honest after hiding for so long? Kazuya doesn't know but panic grows inside him and makes his chest go tight. He doesn't know but he has to.

Late nights exist for pulling out into the light what should be hidden.

"Wait."

Impossibly, Kazuya's voice doesn't waver but it feels stripped bare, vulnerable, because of what he is about to say or do, despite, or maybe precisely because, he doesn't know. It's enough to get Sawamura to stop and catches Kazuya off guard because of how much looser the vice around his chest gets. Neither moves, Sawamura staying half turned away from him, halfway toward him, clearly showing his indecisiveness. He needs a push in the right direction.

But is that Kazuya?

He can't speak, again, so after another moment or two, he bends down to scoop up Sawamura's chocolate milk from the ground.

"Here." Kazuya stretches out his hand, bridging half the distance between them with the can held like a peace offering. Another swallow, a crooked but real smile, small and tentative. "You dropped this."

And just like before, Sawamura takes a bit to reach out and take it. Their knuckles brush and he makes as if to recoil but suddenly Kazuya feels brave, and maybe it's the late night honesty, or just plain exhaustion, but he takes hold.

It feels a little rough and calloused but warm and dry. It feels safe and is strangely calming, no tightrope to balance, no vice to crush him. Kazuya's heart still beats fast but it's light. It's just handholding but maybe that's enough for now, for this night. This is as honest as he can be, he thinks, even as he bends in close enough to feel Sawamura's halting breath on his face. His own breathing speeds up in response.

He's been honest but can he be a little braver too?

Kazuya's smile widens as his lips press a whisper to Sawamura's ear before he leaves.

"Drink this before you sleep."

And if there's a hidden meaning behind his words – well. No one has ever said that honesty needs to be clear and simple.

It's enough to know that this is the kind of silence Kazuya leaves behind, along with promises of the future.


End file.
